Heart Snatcher
by heatherfeather
Summary: Everyone's favourite ghostbustin' brother duo head to Minnesota to stop an ancient spirit that has been killing farm animals and eating their hearts, before it takes its revenge out on a human.
1. Deanna and Samantha

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Hey ya'll. Hope you enjoy my little piece of Supernatural literature! (It'll get better, I promise) Cookies for reviewers!- Heather 

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

Chapter One: Heart Snatcher

"What road next, Sammy?" 26 year old Dean Winchester asked his younger brother Sam as he expertly steered his pride and joy (a Chevy Impala, in pristine condition) down the gritty back roads of the cattle and grain farming district of Roseau, Minnesota.

"Its Sam. Get it right. Left on Farm Hill road." 21 year old Sam Winchester instructed, pushing his shaggy brown hair out of the way as he peered intently at a creased road map. Sam traced a line with the tip of his finger, but was jolted up out of his seat as the car struck a pot hole. Murmuring darkly, he returned to the map, pausing only to snap his seatbelt into place.

"Farm Hill Road?" Dean spotted the street sign and obediently turned the car left. "They all look like farm hill roads to me."

Sam gazed out of the passenger window and saw rolling green pastures dotted with brown or stereotypically red barns as far as the eye could see. They sky was a perfect serene blue, unmarred by clouds or birds, and with the window partly rolled down, Sam could smell a lovely fresh scent of something that he remembered,but couldn't quite place.

"What's the gig again?" Dean asked, snapping his brother from his reverie. Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in tune to the angry Metallica song that was blaring from the radio. But, true to form, Dean was distracted from his question easily. "I love this song!" He cried, cranking the volume from incredibly loud to positively ear-splitting/ headache inducing. Dean began singing terribly off tune

"You couldn't carry a tune in a bucket." Sam said. "Anyways, I told you three times already, Deanna!" He grumbled, turning down the radio volume with force. He clenched his fists and attempted to concentrate on the map again.

"Well tell me again, Samantha." Dean readjusted the volume to its previous setting and gave his little brother a look that clearly said "_Turn the volume down again. I dare you."_

"I don't want to anymore. You should've paid attention the first time. You have the attention span of a flea."

"Hey! I'm no flea, you moron!" Dean punched Sam on the shoulder, his fist falling fast and hard like a boulder caught in a landslide. Anyone else would have been offended, or at least very angry, but Sam knew that his brother was only kidding him. Dean punched his brother again, softer this time, and swung his hand up to slap him on the head. Sam was too quick for him. He ducked his head down and his hand shot up like a venus flytrap to catch Dean's hand.

"Not bad, baby bro." The elder ruffled Sam's dark hair in a teasing manner. Sam ducked his head quickly to hide the faint blush that had crept on to his cheeks at this unexpected but very welcome compliment. Well, a compliment by Dean Winchester standards. Dean noticed this and smiled, but he didn't say anything.

Truth be told, Dean liked teasing his brother, but he liked making him feel good even better. Sam had grown up being a kid who feeded off people's compliments and praise, but the sad thing was that he had never gotten as many as he should have. Even when he had taken and passed advanced physics classes in the tenth grade, or when he was accepted with a full scholarship to Stanford, he never was complimented. At least, not by their father. Nope, good ol' dad complimented when he killed his first poltergeist, or made a good shot with a .9 mil. Yep. Totally normal. Sam was a good kid, and he deserved to know it.

"Its a farm on the outskirts of town." Sam continued. "The owners have found five of their cows and two horses dead in one week."

"Yeah, so? Dead barnyard animals are not exactly in our line of work. Unless they were ghost cows, or posessed horses or something. Then I guess it would work." Dean scratched his chin, apparently deep in thought. "Did you know that cows only sleep for fifteen minutes a day? Or is that giraffes?..."

"Stop rambling. The cows were just regular cows.They weren't just killed, though. Killed and completely gutted. No blood found anywhere, although all of their entrails except for the heart were found on the house's front porch. All of their hides had been burned off. A painted symbol was found on the barn wall."

"Sounds like some kind of cult killing, not a spirit."

"Look at the symbol." Sam held the newspaper clipping in front of his brother's face.

Dean studied the mysterious symbol with an inscrutible expression. It was of two black crosses intersecting one another, one of the crosses being upside down. The upside down cross had what seemed to be a disembodied heart speared on it like some kind of insignificant shish kebab rather than a poor animals life force. "Heart Snatcher." He said, turning his attention back to the road. "You think?"

"Definetly." Sam nodded. "Turn down that road there."

Dean rolled the car easily onto the gritty gravel road and the two were silent until they reached a cherry red barn with a length of yellow crime tape stretched around it. He stopped the car.

"This is where the fun begins." Dean rubbed his hands together and grinned at his brother, stepping out of the car and heading towards the house.

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	2. What Do Cows Drink?

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Second chapter up. Enjoy and review. Be merry.- Cheers, Heather

Disclaimer: I did this before, didn't I? If I owned Supernatural, would I really be sitting on my duff at home writing about it? No, probably not.

AN: Made a booboo on ch.1. It the title of it isDeanna and Samantha, not Heart Snatcher.

Chapter Two: What Do Cows Drink?

Sam and Dean rummaged frantically in their pockets as they approached the clump of police officers guarding the house.

"We couldn't have lost them!" Dean muttered angrily to no one in particular. "Damn, I hope we haven't lost them."

"Hello there." Sam said to the officer, attempting to distract his attention away from the fact that he and his brother were both still looking around in their pockets.

"Hello." The officer said gruffly. "No one's aloud on the property. Crime scene, you know? Small town like this, as soon as something happens, even when it's as piddly-ass as a couple o' dead cows, we have to treat it as if someone was killed, you know?"

"Oh, we completely understand and agree with you, in fact, we thought it was a very serious matter. we're FBI. I'm agent Dean McKinley, this is my partner, agent Sam Lockhart." Dean produced his false FBI badge with a flourish and a triumphant expression. Obviously his badge had been what he was looking for. He nudged Sam, and Sam showed the officer his fake FBI badge as well.

"FBI, huh? I didn't know that a couple of hometown yuppies dead barn animals was so serious. Are you sure you've got the right place?" The sheriff gave them a scrutinizing look. "You don't look much like FBI anyways. No fancy sunglasses or briefcases. And you're awfully young. That one can't be more than 20." The sheriff gestured towards Sam, who did his best to stare directly into the eyes of the sheriff without looking away.

"20! I can assure you that Babyface Sammy over here is much older than that. As for the sunglasses, I left mine in the car. Now, are you gonna brief us on the case, or what?" Dean glared at the sheriff. He hated him already. It was like an unwritten rule that any small-town sheriff that the Winchesters met, had to be a complete ass. A suspicious ass at that.

"My names' Sheriff Don Edmonds. You can call me Ed. Martin and Theresa Hannigan, the farm owners, went into their barn to feed the horses on Tuesday night and found a cow dead. Same thing happened on Wednesday, three cows and a horse dead. Then, last night, a horse and a cow dead, and a funny lookin' sign painted on the wall. No signs of forced entry into the barn, and no traces of the killer left behind, but it could be worse, I suppose. Could be a person dead, right? I'm sure you two have seen your fair share of expired people." Sheriff Ed, obviously thinking that what he had said deserved to be on the comedy channel, elbowed Sam in the side and laughed heartily.

Sam and Dean both managed a strangled chuckle, and ducked their heads as they went under the police tape and towards the barn.

Sheriff Ed made a move to join them, but Dean stuck his hand out to stop him. "We've got it from here." He said coldly, stopping the sheriff short. Ed sputtered, in shock at being told to back away from his crime scene by two men younger than his own son.

"That was kinda malicious." Sam commented as he and Dean pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the barn.

"Yeah, well, the guy was an idiot. I really didn't want to have to deal with him any longer. Besides, we got this. Dean winked at his brother and stared up at all for of the barn walls, his gaze coming to rest on the far east wall. It was gruesome. The same symbol that had been in the newspaper was painted on the wall in what appeared to be dried blood.

"Two intersecting crosses, on in the symbol of the anti christ, with a heart speared on the end. Definetly the Heart Snatcher." Sam said pointing out each different part of the sign as be said it.

"I don't know. Could be a copycat, or a fanatical cult member. It just doesn't seem... Ghostly." Dean walked in a small circle around the barn, keeping his glance fixed up on the morbid crest drawn onto the wall. "I think that it might be a false alarm Sammy."

"Okay, A: Its Sam, not Sammy, and B: Not ghostly! This thing has ghostly written all over it! Same M.O. as all of the other Heart Snatcher killings in 1980, except for the fact that it hasn't escalated to a human being dying. Yet. But that will happen soon enough, if you choose to walk away from this! Are you just gonna leave? Maybe come back when an actual _person_ has died?"

Dean tore his eyes away and turned to face his livid brother. "First things first, _Sammy, _I don't think an actual person is gonna die! Why are you getting so upset over this?"

"I'm not upset!"

"You are."

"Am not!" Sam crossed his arms over his chest sounding incredibly like a child and walked to the other side of the barn where a cow lay. The cow's fur had been completely singed away, leaving raw bloody flesh, and in some areas, bone. The stomach had been slice open and both sides had been ripped apart, revealing an completely empty gaping hole. There was no blood pool around the carcass as one would expect, but Sam did notice something else. "Hey Dean!" He bent down and picked a small black velvet heart off of the ground beside the rotting cow.

"Is that...?" Dean mumbled, crouching down and taking the heart from his brother and turning it over in his hands.

"The dead heart. Yep." Sam grabbed the heart back and smirked at his brother. "Still think we should leave?"

Wordlessly, Dean got up and left the barn, patting his brother on the back.

"Dean?" Sam followed his older brother outside. He found him standing on the porch of the farm house, talking to a middle aged woman.

"Mrs. Hannigan, I need you to tell me what happened, starting on Tuesday." Dean said to her gently.

"Mr. McKinley, say silk silk silk." Mrs. Hannigan instructed.

"Silk silk silk." Dean repeated, a confused expression on his face.

"What do cows drink?" She asked.

"Milk." He said automatically.

"Water." Mrs. Hannigan told him. Dean looked terriblybewildered.

"Tell me what happened, Mrs. Hannigan." He said with an exasperated tone

Sam came up beside him and looked intently at Mrs. Hannigan.

"I went into the barn to feed my horses, and I saw Molly lying there dead. Poor thing, Molly. She'd jus' had a calf, you know. Named her Mirabelle. Lovely young thang. Much like yerself." Mrs. Hannigan winked at Sam and smacked his butt. Dean struggled to stifle a laugh in his hand, while Sam just looked shocked and slightly disgusted.

"Mrs. Hannigan..." Sam began.

"Please, call me Theresa." She interuppted.

"Theresa, we are going to need a bit more description. And a lot less smacking." Sam smiled warmly at the woman.

Theresa Hannigan could not have been younger than 50. She had brittle greying brown hair pulled up into a limp ponytail. She was skinny, but chubby at the same time, and she had dull brown eyes that seemed slightly glazed over, as though she had just taken a hit.

"I told you everything I know. I went into the barn saw my animals dead. Three times! I didn't hear anyone going into my barn, nor did I give anyone permission to be in my barn. I'm sorry to be so rude, sirs, but I think we're done here." Theresa was suddently very cold to Sam and Dean, and she retreated back into her house, slamming the screen door shut.

"i don't like her." Sam grumbled as he and Dean walked off the porch.

"No wonder. I cannot believe she smacked your butt. That was the highlight of my day." Dean laughed.

"No, I think that she's suspicious. Did you see how her eyes were glazed over?"

"Glazed over?"

"Incerdibly glazed. I was hungry for doughnuts. It was like she had been smoking pot or something. And she was nice and cooperative, but as soon as we asked her for more info, she snapped." Sam told his older brother.

"It was probably just stress. How would you feel if you had been asked the same questions over and over by hundreds of people?" Dean defended. He stopped, as though a sudden thought had come to him. "Sam, say silk silk silk."

"What?"

"Just say it."

"Silk silk silk..." Sam had the same weirded out expression as Dean had been wearing only moments before.

"What do cows drink?" Dean asked him.

"Water. Why?"

"Stupid little Stanford boy..." Dean mumbled under his breath.

"What are you...Sam began. He was cut off by a blood-curdling scream coming from inside the house. The scream seemed to shake the ground, it was so loud.

"Lets go!" Dean cried, and he and his brother ran back towards the house.

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	3. Broken Mirror

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Hello again! 5 day weekend, woo-hoo! You know what that means. Lots and lots of updates, cause I've got oodles of free time.

Next chapter up: Expect lots of big brother caring for little brother, cause I'm a sucker for that stuff.

Disclaimer: Been here, done this. I don't own anything to do with Supernatural, although I do live close to where it's filmed. Go Vancouver!

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Chapter Three: Broken Mirror

Dean and Sam raced into the Hannigan house as fast as they could, with Sheriff Ed and his band of slightly pathetic volunteer Roseau policemen hot on their heels. Mrs. Hannigan screamed again, although not as loud, and from that, Sam and Dean were able to discern where in the house she was. They found her in the bathroom, huddled in the corner. She was obviously trying to make herself as small as possible, and trying to hide the fact that she had numerous tiny lacerations all up her pale arms. She was rocking back and forth and murmuring to herself quietly. She truly looked like someone from a mental institution.

"Mrs. Hannigan! Mrs. Hannigan, are you alright?" Dean moved forwards and crouched down beside her. She was clutching something tighly in her hands, and Dean gently prised them apart. When he did, he withdrew his own hands quickly. Mrs. Hannigan had been holding a small shard of broken mirror. And not just holding, but tightly gripping it, as though as soon as she let go of that single mirror piece, her whole life would shatter like the mirror it came from. Dean took the mirror shard from her.

"Are you okay?" Sam repeated. Mrs. Hannigan nodded weakly, but her whole body was trembling like she had just come back from somewhere cold. "Here, let me take you outside. We'll get you cleaned up." He gently took her arm, making sure to avoid all of the cuts and lead her out onto the front porch, where he sat her down in the wooden armchair that sat there. "Do you have a first aid kit?" He asked

"K...Kitchen cab...Cabinet" She lifted a scraped arm and pointed it towards the house. Sam nodded and took off to find the kitchen, which proved relatively easyseeing as it was the first room in the house. There were about four cupboards though, and Sam opened all of them. "Food. No." He shut cupboard one. "Pickled preserves. Ew. No." He shut cupboard two. "First aid. Yes." He removed the first aid kit from cupboard three and was about to close it when something caught his eye. It was a book, a photo album scrapbook kind of thing, and the label on its cover read "Heart Snatcher." Sam took it off the shelf.

Inside the scrapbook were clippings of newspaper articles, printed internet pages, and things of the like. All of them focused on the same subject. The Heart Snatcher. Sam thumbed through the first few pages of the book staring in shock at what was on its pages. There were newspaper pages from the eighties, and addresses. Sam was willing to bet money that the addresses were those of the Heart Snatcher's firstvictims.He glanced down and saw the first aid kit lying discarded on the chipped formica countertop. Remembering his original mission, he pocketed the scrapbook and dashed outside to tend to Mrs. Hannigan.

Meanwhile, Dean was still pacing the bathroom, making it a point to avoid getting Mrs. Hannigan's blood off of the floor and onto his shoes. He looked at the mirror piece in his hand, and then up at the bathroom mirror. It was not broken, only a corner of it had been snapped off. He compared the piece in his hand to the corner. They matched, but there was another piece missing. A bigger piece. Dean scanned the floor, without success. The mirror piece was nowhere to be found.

"Sammy, look at this." Dean went outside and tapped his brother on the shoulder.

The younger finished with the last bandage on Mrs. Hannigan's arm and turned to face Dean. "Mirror." He said simply.

"Yeah mirror, you dunce. Not all of it though. There isa piecemissing."

"Well, where is it?"

"I don't know where, that's why I'm telling you and not just showing you the entire mirror." Dean smacked his brother lightly upside the head. "Think, Sammy."

"It's Sam." Sam said halfheartedly as he and Dean headed back to the car to talk.

Dean leaned against the car and looked around to make sure that no one was in earshot. "What did you find?" He asked his brother.

"You'll never believe it." Sam assured him, smirking slightly.

"Who knows? Maybe if you showed it to me..."

"I was getting to that." Sam reached into his pocket and produced the Heart Snatcher scrapbook that he had found in the Hannigan's kitchen cupboard. "Its a book. A book all about the Heart Snatcher. Mrs. Hannigan has been collecting articles on him since the eighties."

"Good find, Sammy. So, creepyMrs. Hannigan knows about the ghost? This is better than an episode of Scooby Doo."

"Yeah. Should we talk to her?"

"Not yet. We should do some research first. Find out whats really going on.Get some sleep." Dean looked at his brother as he said this. He knew that his brother had not been sleeping well if at allsince Jess was killed.

"We don't need sleep, we need to find this thing, kill it, and then move on to the next town."

"Yes, we do need sleep. Its getting dark anyways. I'll tell that idiot sheriff that we'll be back tomorrow. We'll get some food and a motel room." Dean was almost pleading, that's how much he wanted his little brother to get some rest.

"Fine." Sam gave in, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Thank you." Dean patted his brother's shoulder and went off in search of Sheriff Ed. Sam sullenly opened the car door and sat himself down hard. Dean joined him momentarily.

"The sheriff said that there is a motel and diner in the town center, about five miles west of here. There should be a library there too." Dean said, steering his Impala with one hand.

"Mmm." Sam nodded. Dean shot his baby brother one last concerned glance, and the two drove on in search of the motel in silence.

After about five miles, the two breached civilization. The town of Roseau, Minnesota consisted of a Save-On-Foods, a couple of Shell stations, a McDonalds, a Dairy Queen, a small diner called Daisy's Diner, and then at the end of the town, a motel. It was a very shabby motel, but one that was obviously in Sam and Dean's limited price range.

Dean parked the Impala and he and Sam got out. Then they entered the motel and approached the front desk that was manned by a greasy looking woman. Dean gave her his trademark charming smile, even though she had to be at least 45.

"Hello, Miss." Dean said cheerily. "We were wondering if we could get a room for a few days."

"Why certainly." The woman said, and she smiled herself. it was a rather gruesome smile, though. Very yellow and chipped. "Room 7. Enjoy your stay." She handed Dean a room key, gave him a flirty look,and the two brothersheaded off to room 7.

"I'll go get the food. What do you want?" Dean asked as hethrew himselfdown on the bed closest to the door. "Dibs." He claimed the bed.

"Nothing. I'm not hungry." Sam sat down on his bed and rubbed his face with his hand.

"I don't care. You have to eat."

"I told you, I'm not hungry."

"Cheeseburger it is." Dean hurried off before his brother could say anything.

Dean went through the McDonalds drive-thru and got two cheeseburgers, one for him, and one for Sam.

"Hey, Sammy..." Dean trailed off as he entered the room and saw his brother passed out on the bed. "I'm home." He finished softly. He bent over his brother's bed and pulled the blankets up over him. It seemed that sleep had finally caught up with Samuel Winchester. It had been avoided so long that his body had finally given into exhaustion, and Dean could not have been happier. Dean cared for his brother more than Sam would ever know. Dean could remember one of the last things his mother said to him. "Take care of your brother, Dean." She had said, and Dean always had. He protected Sammy more than himself. He wanted to shield his little brother from every cause of pain in the world, but he had already failed him. Leaving Stanford, Dad leaving, Jessica dying. All of these things had taken a tremendous toll on his brother, and Dean hated it. He hated all of it. He just wanted his Sammy to be safe. To be happy.

Dean looked at his brother again and then settled into his own bed, sighing deeply. He could already tell that sleep would not come easy. It was going to be a long night.

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Reviews make heather a happy girl


	4. Daisy's Diner

Hello kiddies. Back with another chapter, I am. Please enjoy, and don't forget to review!- Heather

P.S.: My spacing between words kinda sucked in the last chapter, please forgive me.

Dicsclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Supernatural. If I did, though, Sam and Dean would probably spend the majority of the time shirtless.

Chapter Four: Daisy's Diner

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"Hey, Dean. Dean! Get your lazy ass up!" Sam shook his sleeping brother's shoulder with extreme force. 

"Hmm...?" Dean opened one eye lazily and looked around the room, his gaze stopping on his brother, who was already showered and dressed. "What? Why are you up so early?"

"Its not early, you idiot. Look." Sam grabbed the digital clock that sat on the nightstand and showed it to his half-asleep brother. The glowing scarlet numerals clearly read 10:30. "Its late. We are supposed to go and do research today. Get up."

"Fine, fine. Give me a minute." Dean rolled himself out of bed and slid into the pair of jeans and the t-shirt that were lying on the ground.

"You wore those yesterday." Sam wrinkled his nose.

Dean sniffed his shirt. "They pass the sniff test. Besides, all of my other clothes are dirty as well."

"I think the motel has a laundry room. We should do that once we get back from the library."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You mean you should do that once we get back, Mr. Mom. I have more important stuff to do."

"Oh, really. Like what?" Sam asked him, raising his own eyebrow.

"Like meeting some locals..."

"_Cough _girls _cough."_ Sam coughed.

"And getting us some money. You know, for food and stuff." Dean looked away from his brother as he said this, but he knew that Sam would jump on his bones anyways.

"Dean, you're not gonna hustle pool, are you?" Sam asked him.

"You gotta do what you gotta do, Sammy." Dean slipped on his faded leather jacket and went outside, walking towards the car. Sam stopped and locked the door to the motel room before hurrying after his brother.

"I hate it when you do that. There has to be some way that we can earn an honest living for once, without stealing other people's money." Sam climbed into the passenger seat as Dean revved the engine.

They found the library with little difficulty. It was a tiny thing, and the nauseating green paint that coated the building was starting to peel off in strips. The door was almost rusted shut, but once inside, it was just a library like any other library.

"I'll look for books on Roseau history, you look for hauntings in the area." Dean instructed, walking towards a shelf that was labeled 'Roseau'.

"Okay. Meet you here in a half hour." Sam left.

The boys continued to thumb through hundreds of books on the library shelf, occasionally stopping and adding another one to the pile. After a half hour was up, they grabbed their stacks, checked them out at the front desk, and met at the door.

"Lets go somewhere quiet." Dean said. The brothers slung their book bags over their shoulders and headed onto the street, looking for a place that seemed at least a little bit secluded. They ended up going into Daisy's Diner, a little cafe that looked dilapidated on the outside, but quite nice on the inside. Not to mention it smelled like pancakes and the waitresses had very low cut uniforms.

"Hello, welcome to Daisy's. I'm Melanie, I'll be your server today." Dean smiled at Melanie. She was tall, thin, and very blonde and busty. "Can I get you guys a drink to start off?"

"Just water for me." Dean told her.

"Black coffee." Sam said. Melanie nodded and left the table.

"You guzzle black coffee like gatorade. Its not healthy." Dean said to his brother.

"Since when do you care about how healthy I am?" Sam asked, picking up the menu and looking through it.

"Since you were born..." Dean mumbled so that Sam wouldn't hear. He picked up his own menu.

"Water and a black coffee." Melanie came back andsat the cups down in front of their respective owners. "What can I get you to eat?" She pulled out a notepad and pen.

"Cheeseburger and fries." Sam said, handing her the menu.

"Same." Dean said.

"It'll be up in a few." Melanie smiled, although it was more directed to Dean, and left to the kitchen.

"Okay, what did you dig up?" Sam asked Dean, sipping his coffee.

Dean drew a blank. "Dig up? I didn't dig up anything. We were at the library, remember?"

"Not literally, you doof! What did you find out?" Sam blew a clump of dark hair off of his forehead in exasperation.

"Oh. Right." Dean grinned sheepishly. "I found out a lot. There was a murder in the town in 1879 that involved the man's heart being cut out. The victims name was William Friedmont, and he was killed by a woman named Hannah McManus."

"Hannah McManus. I read about her somewhere, hang on." Sam grabbed a book and flipped it to a page in the middle. "Hannah McManus was a dressmaker in 1879. She was married, but William Friedmont was her lover. Then he got engaged to another woman and Hannah killed him."

"He was found lying on the ground in the center of main street, his heart cut out and replaced with one made from black velvet. The velvet was identified as coming from Hannah's dressmaking shop!" Dean finished.

"Right, so the ghost must be William Friedmont!" Sam said excitedly.

Melanie came rushing over with their steaming plates. "You called?" She asked.

"Uh, no we didn't..." Dean was confused.

"Yes you did," Melanie told them. "You said Friedmont. That's my last name."

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Ooh, the plot thickens, even if I do say so myself! I totally made this chapter up as I went along, I hope it doesn't suck too much! 

To warrior of the shadow, Ghostwriter, Windyfontaine, Nate and Jake, Leah8723, gatefan, Ms. Perception, and ChaiGrl: I'm so glad you like my story, thanks for your reviews! This is my first story, and it means so much to me that you actually took the time to respond. Keep em' coming!

Love, Heather. XOXOX


	5. This Old House

Sorry it took so long my friends, i had SOOOOO much homework on the first day back, so I'll let you blame my teacher. And you can blame my volleyball coach for scheduling two practices and a game in the space of two days. Very long, long practices.

Next chapter up... I'm tryin' to tie up all of the loose ends here, and I hope it satisfies your Supernatural hunger. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own Supernatural! Muahahahahah! No I'm totally kidding, please don't sue.

Chapter Five: This Old House

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Dean and Sam stared at Melanie with identical expressions of shock, mouths agape and eyes locked on their target. Melanie shifted uneasily under their scrutinizing gaze before finally asking,

"What? Why are ya'll staring at me? Do I have something in my teeth?" Melanie rubbed her index finger along her pearly white teeth.

"Friedmont?" Sam was the first to snap himself out of his state of shock. "You're kidding right?" He asked, "I didn't think he had any descendants."

"Who didn't have any descendants? Who in the world are you two going on about?" Melanie furrowed her brow in confusion.

"William." Dean breathed, continuing to stare as though mesmerised at the blonde waitress.

"Who?" Melanie's eyebrows shot up into her hairline. "I.. I think I'll get another waitress to serve you guys. No offense or anything, but you're kinda creeping me out."

"None taken." Sam assured her. "But please, just listen to us. You may be the key to destroying the spirit. Sit." He patted the tacky yellow upholstery with one hand, indicating for Melanie to sit down. She complied, but looked ready to bolt. She probably thought that they were ex-convicts out on parole, or serial killing psychopaths ar something. Which they weren't. Dean had been a little bit of a pyromaniac in his early teens, but that was the closest either of them had gotten to being certifiably insane. Although, I suppose if you squint, living in a real life version of Ghostbusters was pretty crazy.

"Do you know of a William Friedmont?" Dean asked Melanie as soon as her bottom was touching the holey seat.

"Oh, yeah. William Friedmont was killed on main street and his heart was cut out and replaced with a velvet one. Everyone in Roseau knows about him, he's a part of the town's history. He's a legend." Melanie told them.

"Well, we know of another legend." Sam explained. "Have you ever heard of the Heart Snatcher?"

Melanie's eyes flickered towards the ceiling as she racked her brain. "No... I can't say that I have."

"Well, the Heart Snatcher is the ancient spirit of William Friedmont who has come back to take his revenge. First on animals, next on humans." Dean said quickly, trying to avoid the embarrassmant factor that usually came with Sam and or Dean explaining what thay did for a living and being blatantly laughed at.

Melanie began laughing almost instantly. Sam and Dean paused their story, they had been expecting this. After a few moments her hysterical bouts of laughter subsided, and she said, "You're joking, right?" After seeing the somber no nonsense looks on Sam and Dean's faces, she continued. "Oh, god, you're serious, aren't you? Okay then, I'll bite. How do you know all of this?"

"Never mind that. You heard about what happened on Theresa and Martin Hannigan's farm, right?" Sam asked, taking a sip from his now cold coffee.

"Of course. In a small town like this you hear about everything ten minutes after it happens." Melanie said. "Her livestock were found dead and their... hearts had been... cut out. Okay. Weird. You two already knew that. You're saying that what did that was an angry ghost?"

"Exactly." Dean countered. "Do you believe us?"

Melanie contmplated this for a moment. "Yeah. I believe you. Why are you telling me all this though? What do I have to do with any of it?"

"You're the link." Dean told her.

"The link?"

"Yes. You are a descendant of William Friedmonts. Any brothers or sisters? Cousins?" Sam asked.

"Nope. Just me. Gets lonely sometimes." Melanie admitted, picking a fry off of Dean's plate.

"Then you are the only connection between William Friedmont's spirit and the real world." Dean explained. "We might need your help."

"Just tell me what to do." Melanie said.

"First, back to the Hannigan farm. I have some things to ask Theresa." Sam said, a grim yet determined look on his face.

With Melanie in the backseat, Sam, Dean, and the Impala roared out of the tiny town, engines gunned and Black Sabbath cranked up full blast. Grassy green hills, fields, barns, and irrigation pumps zoomed by out of the car windows, all illuminated with the glow of the quickly setting sun. All of the police had gone, but the crime scene tape was still stretched across the front yard of the Hannigan farm house, the only sign that there had been something out of the ordinary there.

As soon as Dean stopped the car, Sam jumped out and dashed up the front porch.

"No need to hurry..." Dean grumbled after his brother, as he removed the key from the ignition.

"Its been so long since I've been here." Melanie whispered, tiliting her head back to get a full view of the house.

"You've been here before?" Dean asked.

Melanie looked at the house again before answering. "Yeah, I babysat for their kid Michael about a year ago."

"You were fired?" Dean questioned.

"No." Melanie looked slightly upset. "Michael died. Brain tumor. It was so sad. Mr. Hannigan went totally looney too. Started seeing things and talking to himself. You know that he's up at a mental institution in Rochester?"

"Really?"

"Would you guys stop flirting and get up here?" Sam asked, tapping his foot impatiently.

Dean glared darkly at his brother and stomped his way up the porch.

Sam knocked. No answer. "Mrs. Hannigan?" He called, knocking again.

"Something's not right, Sam." Dean said, pounding loudly on the door. "Mrs. Hannigan? Theresa?" He yelled.

"You're right, somethings not right." Melanie snickered, but before Sam or Dean could turn to look at her, both were hit hard on the head, Dean at the back and Sam at the front. Everything went dark.

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Another cliffie! I love to keep youz guyz hanging. R&R, you know the drill.- Heather XOXO

Shout Outs: (Only one? SOB!)

Eagna: Yes, I am a HUGE CSI fan.Except CSI miami.I just can't stand Horatio Caine. And I've been kinda put off NY too since theyfired Aiden and brought in that new girl.


	6. Trapped

Sorry it took me so long, I was super busy. But, my busyness paid off. If anyone cares to know, my volleyball team is going to the Fraser Valleys, and I am on the starting line! Read, review, be merry.- Heather XOXO

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

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All that Dean could see when he roused were blurs. Everything that would be solid to anyone else was an insignificant blur to him. Fuzzy black dots obscured his vision, and he was faintly aware of a dull throbbing at the back of his head.

"Hmmm?" Dean mumbled, completely disoriented. He raised his hand and put it to his head. When he withdrew, he found that his hand was smeared with scarlet blood. "Shit…" He said, feeling his head again. He jerked his hand away and swiveled his head around, as though he was looking for something that he had just remembered.

Dean realized that he was in a small room, possibly a cellar or large closet. His hands and feet were tied together with thick cords of rope, and he was chained by a clamp around his ankle to a steel loop that stuck out of the cement wall.

"Sam?" Dean called anxiously, shaking his head to clear his vision. "Sam?" Dean saw his brother in the same situation, except for one tiny but possibly dangerous detail. Sam was still unconscious.

Little beads of sweat rolled down Dean's forehead as he wriggled around frantically, trying his hardest to undo his bonds. He had to get to his babybrother. It was his job to protect him, and he had, hehad tried his hardest to do so, but it was becoming more and more difficult, what with Sam first going off toStanford and then all of the accidents and injuries that came with hunting.With one final squirm the cords around his wrists fell away, and Dean quickly untied the ropes that held together his feet.

With a grunt he stood and stepped towards his seemingly comatose baby brother, but was yanked back. "What the…" He muttered, glancing down at his left foot, which was still being held captive by a large iron handcuff.

Dean bent down and inspected the chain. "Oh, god, this is so 'Saw'." He pulled on the chain as hard as he could, but to no avail. He looked around the basement as though he were expecting to find a tape recorder or a rusty old saw somewhere.

He cocked his head as he heard footsteps that grew louder as though they were coming towards him. Dean looked over at Sam to see if he were still unconscious.

The door to the miniscule room squeaked open and two women entered, their heads down.

"Why hello there, Mr. McKinley. Or should I call you Mr. Winchester?" The first woman raised her head, and Dean could get a clear view of who it was, as did the second woman.

"Mrs. Hannigan. I would ask if I could help you with something, but you're the one who chained me to the wall of your basement." Dean said, unable to keep his everpresent sarcasm from creeping into his words.

"Hello Dean." Melanie said. She bent down beside Sam and brushed the unruly dark hair off of his forehead. She caressed his cheek and Dean grimaced.

"Don't touch him." Dean snarled at Melanie, tugging fruitlessly on his chain.

"Have it your way." Melanie laughed and went to stand beside Mrs. Hannigan. "I suppose that you are wondering why my mom… I mean, Mrs. Hannigan and I knocked you out and chained you up in our cellar?"

"Mrs. Hannigan is your mother?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Yes. You and your brother know all there is to know about ghosts and spirits, but you couldn'tsee the family resemblance? Some snoops you are.Would you like to know the story?" Melanie inquired, wetting and then pursing her full red lips.

"Well, considering I'm chained to your wall and can't move anywhere, I guess I have no choice in the matter, do I?" Dean growled.

"Well, I'll try and make this long story short. You and your brother came here hunting the Heart Snatcher. Or William Friedmont, an ancestorof ours. You see, I am my mothers firstborn from her first husband, Marshall Friedmont." Melanie explained.

"And what do you have to do with the Heart Snatcher spirit?" Dean asked, throwing his still out cold brother a concerned glance.

"Well, since we are Will Friedmont's only living ancestors, we control it. We can set him to tear the heart out of anyone we want." Mrs. Hannigan smiled evilly.

"And its first human victims are going to beyou and your brother." Melanie finished. She pulled an old looking book out of her coat pocket andshe flipped it open to a dog eared page near the end and began reading aloud strange words in a different language, that Dean thought he recognized as latin. When she was done, she snapped the book shut with a flourish and put it back in her pocket.

"I hope you have fun in your last few hours alive." Mrs. Hannigan smirked. "You have till sunrise."

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Remember to review.

crystalphoenix- I'm glad you think it is a good story, I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

Nimue26- Thanks for telling me, and I set up my account to recieve anonymous reviews. I really appreciate it!

Windyfontaine- I'm glad you like it, and I'm glad that you noticed my plot to make Melanie really suspicious.

Ghostwriter- I'll catch you on the flip side as well.

Chaigrl- Awesome chapter? You really think so? Thanks!

Thanks for all your very kind reviews, and please keep them coming!


	7. Rats

Well, here is the new chapter my lovelies, and I hope it gets as much positive feedback as the last ones have. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! My goal is 50 reviews.- Heather XOX

Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural or anything affiliated, I would not be here writing about it, I would probably be out, letting Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki hand feed me chocolate coated strawberries. JK! (Actually, no...I probably would:))

AN: If you have a fear of rats, this chapter is probably not for you. But even if you do hate rats, please read it anyways, cause it makes me happy.

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Dean's breath caught in his throat as Melanie and her supposed mother, Mrs. Hannigan turned and walked up the stairs, without so much as a second glance back at their prisoners. Once they were out of sight, he dug at the metal clamp binding his ankle to the wall, his now dirty fingernails scrabbling at the cold iron. 

"Damn, damn, damn…" He repeated to himself, as his attempts to free himself proved as fruitless as a five year old playing tug-o-war with an elephant.

He heard a rustle beside him, and snapped his head around to look. The basement was almost pitch black and had hundreds of small nooks and crannies, but Dean's hazel eyes soon adjusted, and he came face to face with one of the most disgusting sights he had ever seen. Rats. Oodles of them, all climbing over one another and squeaking, their hard nails clicking and long tails swishing along the cement floor.

Now, Dean had been a ghost hunter ever since he was a child, and he had seen some pretty gruesome things. Mangled bodies, twisted and disfigured spirits, and more blood than the average surgeon saw in a lifetime. But none of that changed the fact that he hated rats with a fiery passion, and he had despised the disgusting sewer crawlers since he was a kid.

Dean stared at the filthy writhing mass of rats and then over at his little brother. He had to wake him up. If not, the rats would surely find their way over to him, and then… Dean gulped. He had seen plenty of old cop shows and mob torture specials (what can I say? He was a pretty morbid teenager at times.). He had seen enough that he knew what the rats would do to Sammy. And Sammy's flesh…

"Sam!" He called over. "Sam, get up!"

"Mmm." Sam groaned. His arm twitched, and he moved slightly. Dean took this as a good sign. His baby brother wasn't dead, but Dean was still worried at the fact that he wasn't moving.

"Why is Sam always the one who gets hurt?" He mumbled to himself, looking at his brother with an unbreakable gaze, it was almost as though he was trying to will him awake.

"Hey, Sammy. Buddy, you've got to get up. Like now" Dean said to him, picking up asmall cement chip that had broken off the unfinished wall and throwing it at his most likely concussed brother's head.

"Ow." Sam mumbled. He moved again and then rolled over slowly. Dean fought to control the gasp that threatened to escape when he saw the puddle of sticky red blood that Sam's head had been lying in.

"Sam, don't try and move too much. Take it slow." Dean advised, looking out of the tiny window opposite him at the reflection of the moon. It shone as bright as a big wheel of white cheese, and looked as plastic as one too. Stars glittered in the sky like sparkles. Despite the night skies beauty, however, the fact still remained that Dean and Sam were in danger."On second thought, take it fast. Very fast." He said, remembering Mrs. Hannigan's words about how he and Sam only had till sunrise.

"Dean, what? What… Is going… Going on?" Sam's words were slurred and spaced very far apart causing him to sound like he was intoxicated or had a really bad hangover, probably due to the concussion that he had suffered when Mrs. Hannigan had hit him upside the head, with what Dean had later realized to be a metal crock-pot.

"Don't talk. You have a concussion." Dean said quickly, trying to get the foundation of a chick flick moment out of the way as fast as possible.

"Okay… Where… Where are… We?" Sam managed to wheeze.

"We're in Mrs. Hannigan's basement. But first, brace yourself for this." Dean glanced at the rats out of the corner of his eye, assuring himself that they were a safe distance away. " Mrs. Hannigan is Melanie's mother."

"Who's Melanie? Oh…Right. Is she… the waitress from that... Dumpy diner?"

"What did I say about talking? Or the fact that there should be a lack of it coming from you? Yes, moron, she's the waitress. Mrs. Hannigan is her mother, and they are controlling the Heart Snatcher spirit of William Friedmont. They are the ones that put us here." Dean explained.

"I figured. Well,... I figured everything except... For the mother thing." Sam smiled, his speech becoming a little clearer. It didn't sound like he was severly drunk anymore, just severly concussed.

"Well, stop your grinning and untie your ropes. We're gonna have our hearts ripped out of our chest's if we're not out of here by sunrise, either by the spirit or those rabid rats over there."

Sam's eyes grew wide and he quickly untied the ropes around his wrists like he had had to do in so many other hostage occasions. Once he was done, he fished around in his jeans pocket and pulledthe pocketknife that he kept with him at all times (Hey, he learned something from his old man, didn't he?). He used the small blade to jimmy the old lock on his chain clamp, and his ankles were free.

Dean stared in disbelief. "You had that the whole time and you didn't tell me?"

"Uh, maybe you're… you're forgetting that I… I was knocked out for about… A half hour."

"Give me that." Dean snapped, his face flushing. "I can't believe that they didn't search your pockets. Amateurs." He snorted as he tried to unlock his own chain.

"Well, come… on then. Hurry up." Sam fidgeted impatiently, raising a hand to feel the gash on his forehead.

"Its not coming off…" The elder brother wrinkled his forehead and bit his lip in concentration. "It is too rusted. Shit!" The blade of the knife broke with an unsatisfying snap. "Why did I have to get the fucking rusted lock!"

"Calm… Down.' Sam rasped. "I'll go and find… Another knife. Get to the car or something."

"Fine. But be careful. And hurry." Dean added, tossing the keys to his brother. "They didn't even take my car keys!" He laughed at the lack of hostage holding professionalism that Melanie and her mother possessed.

Sam nodded and stood up slowly and shakily. He put his hand to his head again and wiped as much of the dried blood off as he could with his trembling hand. He really didn't want to leave his brother, especially with the fact that he could barely stand up on his own and the fact that Dean was chained to a wall with hundreds ofcarnivorous rats frolicking just around the corner.

Dean watched his baby brother climb the stairs, gripping the banister with white knuckles, and then glanced out at the moon again. It was slowly going down, and the darkness of the night was lightening and giving way to the coming day.

Dean jumped as far as the metal would allow when he felt something touch his foot.

What he saw scared the shit out of him. There was a great dirty rat crawling up the leg of his jeans and there were three more sniffing around his left shoe, their long spidery whiskers twitching.

He swatted the rats away frantically, but they just kept coming.

"Get off!" He yelled, hitting the rats left and right. "Ahhh!" He screamed (a manly scream though.) , as two of the rats bit him, their razor sharp and probably infected yellow teeth digging deep into his skin. The rats kept coming and coming, and they kept on biting and biting. Dean continued to brush the miniscule furry bodies off of him, and he prayed that his little brother would be safe, and that he would come back soon, with another knife, and Dean would be able to get out of this rat infested cold cement hell as soon as possible.

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Don't forget to R&R! 

Thanks every one for all of your kind reviews, and thanks for all your volleyball support!We just had about four practices in the space of two days and I stunk up the court, so my postition on the starting line may be in jeopardy, but still. Go Rick Hansen Secondary!


	8. Stairs By the Dozen

I think that this is the first time in the history of this stroy that I have posted two consecutive chapters on two consecutive days. Milestone! Okay, with my last chapter I went from 28 reviews to 33, lets see if we can do it again. My goal is 50. I tried to make this chapter a little bit longer, sohappy reading! -Heather XOX

Disclaimer: I don't even own the computer I'm using, so what do you think the chances are of me owning Supernatural? Slim to none my friends, slim to none. (I do know that it's not nessesary to write a disclaimer for every chapter, but I like to think of all the different ways to say that I don't own what could quite possibly be my most favourite show!)

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Sam gripped the rough wooden banister with all his might to keep himself from toppling over while running up the basement stairs of the Hannigan house. He couldn't fall, not now. Not when it was Dean who was depending on him to get them out of a jam, whereas it was usually the other way around. Sam would have felt proud were it not for the fact that his big brother was still chained to a wall and quite possibly being eaten alive bya pack of rabid/evilrats. Sam knew how much Dean hated rats. And, quite frankly, Sam had no love for the gross little creatures either.

Sam was shocked at the sheer amount of stairs that he was having to climb up to get to the main floor of the house. So far he had counted thirty-two. Sometimes Sam liked to make a game out of counting the stairs while he was climbing them. He had done that ever since he was a kid, maybe around five. Probably since he could count.He had gotten so good at it now that he could run up stairs at top speed and still count them exactly right. It came with years of practice, I guess.

The stairs stopped and turned into a narrow hallway. The corridor was so thin that Sam almost had to turn his shoulders sideways to make it through the passage. And Sam thought he was skinny! There were thousands of cobwebs stuck to the walls, so many in the one place that they all formed a kind of shimmering white gauze curtain over the concrete. He brushed the webs away with his hand, and kicked at the couple of stray mice that scurried along the floor at his feet.

And then, what he found at the end of the hallway made in cry out in frustration. More stairs!

"Come on!" He muttered, taking them two at a time, but making sure to still count them. Sixty-seven. That had to be a record. Sixty-seven stairs seemed to be all, but the door that looked like it lead to the main floor of the house was locked from the other side.

"It never stops... does it?" Sam said to himself, wheezing like an athsmatic as the rammed the door with as much force as he could muster. The contact between the wall and his shoulder hit him like a ton of bricks, but when the door didn't spring open, he gritted his teeth and tried again. With the second shove, the door flew off of it's frame, allowing Sam a clear passage through into what appeared to be the kitchen.

Sam stepped into the kitchen as quiet as a breath of air, not wanting to make a sound in case Mrs. Hannigan or Melanie were still about. They didn't seem to be though, all of the house lights were off, and the place was as silent as a tomb. Athough in his years as a ghost hunter, Sam had come to realize that tombs were anything but quiet.

He wandered around the house cautiously, trying to remember where the front door was. Sam bit his lip. How could he be so stupid as to not remember where the fucking front door was? The one moment when Dean needed **him **to come through, his one moment to shine and prove his worth, and he couldn't find his way out of a farm house. Un-fucking-believable.

Just then, hewas struck by a thought. A thought that made him seem like even more of an idiot than a person who couldn't tell a front door from a kitchen.

"Kitchens have knives!" He murmured excitedly, running to the counter and pulling open the first drawer that he reached. "Bingo."Sam plucked a small but sharp steak knife from the wooden block and turned to go back to his brother. He was hit by another thought, and he quickly grabbed another knife, just in case, before heading back down the stairs to the cold cement hell.

His head was throbbing hard, it was as though someone had a jackhammer and was using it to rummage around in his brain. The only time that Sam could remember having a headache that bad was one evening in collegebefore he met Jess, when he went out with a particularly talkative, yet extremely dull Stanford undergrad named Becka Wilson. He shuddered at the memory of the three hours of lectures about the benefits of going vegan vegetarian that he had endured that night.

"Dean!" Sam called when he was almost at the bottom of the stairs. It had crossed his mind more than once to do the whole Sylvestre Stallone punch the air thing, but he ultimately decided against it, considering that he could barely stand and couldn't feel his head. "Dean?" His only answer was a painedgrunt. "Dean! Are you... Oh god..." Sam stopped short at the sight.

In the short time that he had been gone, the rats had managed to bit a good bit of the skin on Dean's left palm off, not to mention that they had eaten a hole through his shoe, and were making their way up his shouldersto his face. "Sammy... Get them off!" Dean cried out, swatting at them the best he could with his bloody hand.

Sam took the initiative and kicked at the ferocious rats, making sure not to kick his brother in the process. Once the minisculefurry beasts were gone, Sam handed his brother one of the knives.

"Damn miniature Wendigos..." Dean grumbled, inspecting the cuts on his hand. Sam nodded in sympathy.

"I got down here as fast as I could." He said, almost completely out of breath.

"These aren't ours." Dean noted, as he expertly picked the rusty lock of the chain clamp. "Where did you get them?"

"Kitchen." Was all Sam said, as he put a hand on the wall to steady himself.

"Why didn't you get ours?" The elder asked, as he freed his ankle and flexed it multipletimesto get the blood flowing again.

"I couldn't find the door." Sam said this quietly, as though if Dean couldn't hear it, the fact would just go away.

"Are you serious? Oh man, you must have one hell of a concussion!" Dean laughed, standing up.

"Hey, it was dark, okay. And I was hit on the head with a pot. You can't laugh at me!" Sam said indignantly, as the shifted his weight, and headed back up the hell stairs with Dean. About halfway up, they were both panting like dogs on a summers day.

"How many fucking stairs are there? I thought I was in better shape than this!" Dean asked, stopping for a moment with his hands on his knees.

"Sixty-seven." Sam replied quickly.

"Do you still have that stupid stair counting tic?" Dean asked, looking at his little brother with a wary eye.

"It's not a tic! And yes. I do count stairs. Don't look at me like I'm crazy..."Sam warned his older brother.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Sam cut him off abruptly. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with it." He said. Dean put his hands up in a defensive position, and the two brothers reached the top of the stairs. (Finally!)

Dean was able to find the front door without difficulty, much to Sam's dismay. After turning and giving Sam a look that read _You seriously couldn't find the door? _He looked up at the sky, the darkness of which was slowly depleting.

"We've gotta find William Friedmont's bones and salt n' burn em before the sun comes up." Dean explained, looking around for his car.

"Well, thats just perfect. We have no clue where they are!" Sam cried out, wringing his hands in frustration.

"We just have to calm down and think."

"Calm down? Calm down? You just had half your hand eaten off by tetanus infected rats, and now we're both going to have our hearts ripped out of our chests by the revenge bent spirit of some old dead guy, and you're telling me to be calm? Wait, you're telling me. That's weird."

"Very weird. Now, where do you think his bones would be buried. Keep in mind that it has to be somewhere that Melanie and Mrs. Hannigan can be controlling it." Dean told him, scratching the stubbly hairs on his chin in thought.

"You just sounded so much like Dad there dude, it was a little freaky." Sam told him.

Dean looked horrifed. "You're not serious!" He asked, and Sam cracked a smile in light of the circumstance. "Less talking, more thinking, college boy. It's what you're good at."

"Right." Sam joked. "I'm the brain, you're the brawn."

"Exactly."

Sam and Dean stood there for a couple of minutes, occasionally giving the rapidly lightening sky a look of contempt.

"Graveyard?" Sam asked, but was shot down by his brother.

"No, too far away. There aren't any in the immediate vicinity."

"Barn?" He tried again. Dean snapped his fingers.

"You may be onto something there, baby bro. Lets go."

The barn was eerie at night, the painted cherry red walls almost glowing in the faint moonlight. The few cows and horses that were sleeping in their stalls gave a few grunts of protest when the door squeaked open, but went right back to sleep.

"Where in the barn would they be?" Sam asked his brother, peering into an empty stall. Dean's face was screwed up from disgust at the smell of fresh cow pies, and he didn't answer away. "Dean?" The younger Winchester repeated.

"I'm thinking!" Dean slowly pivoted on the spot until he was facing the farthest away stall.

"According to Sheriff Ed, that was the stall where the first animal was killed. Do you think his bones are there?"

"Worth a shot." Dean said, as he ran outside the barn, leaving his brother staring after him.

He came back with a pickaxe and a regular axe, and he handed the pickaxe to Sam. "You go for the wall, I'll do the floor." He said.

Sam nodded, and they headed over to the last stall, ignoring the monotonous moos of cows, and the shrill whinnies of the few horses that were left. Dean got to the stall first, and he raised his axe to take a whack at the floor when something caught his eye. Someone. A woman.

"Melanie?"

She responded with an evil laugh.

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There, I'm done! This chapter that is. Many more to come!Don't forget to R&R, and thank you so much for all of your other kind reviews. They mean a lot. Keep on rockin'! 


	9. Sunrise

Well, I just finished my math homework, so I decided to head over to the computer and update my Supernatural story. Actually, I didn't quite finish my math, but it's only Saturday, so who cares? Not me! A little off topic there, but I'm sure that you don't mind my incessant rambling in my AN's. After all, you did put up with 8 chapters of it! Remember my goal: 50 reviews. At least. We're at 42, come on people! Time is a wastin'! Enjoy - HEATHER XOX

P.S.: This chappy may be kinda short. That is cause I'm running out of ideas, and I'm trying to space them out. PFM! (Means: Please forgive me)

Disclaimer: Maybe if I close my eyes and wish really really hard, Supernatural will magically become mine. Nope. Can't blame a girl for tryin though.

Chapter Nine: Sunrise

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"Well hello there boys. I must say I didn't expect you two to break out of the basement quite that quickly. You are more capable than I thought." Even in the eerie flourescent glow of the moon that filtered into the barn through the small windows, Sam and Dean could make out the vicious smile on Melanie's face. She looked truly deranged.

"You know what's funny? You called us boys, but you're probably younger than us." Dean snickered, as he did what he always did when he was in an extremely awkward situation. He made a totally lame, so far from funny that it was not even in the realm of funny joke. Sam elbowed his brother hard in the side, and Dean quickly turned his laugh into a cough.

Melanie sneered. "Silence!" She barked, picking up a shiny sharp pitchfork from where it lay discarded on the floor of the stall. "You will not say a word until I say you can say a word, is that clear?" She waved the weapon under Sam and Dean's noses, which made her look even more psychotic than she had previously.

"Well, you said the word 'say' a lot, but yeah. It's clear." Sam said, tightening his grip on the pickaxe in case he and his older brother had to make a violent getaway. (Or in the immortal words of Anakin Skywalker: "Agressive negotiations").

Melanie pushed the prongs of the pitchfork forwards so that they were resting lightly, but still with force, against Sam's ribcage. "I would not expect you two to be joking right now, considering this is not a laughing matter. Do you not realize that you are about to be killed? And if not by the spirit of William Friedmont, by me? How can you bear to laugh when your life is about to be mercilessly snatched from you? A life that you will never ever regain?" The waitresse's cloudy blue eyes shone with unreleased anger.

"Overdramatic much?" Sam muttered, eyeing the pitchfork prongs warily.

"How can you jest?" She cried again, pushing the pitchfork harder into Sam's stomach.

"I'm kinda a live-in-the-moment type of guy." Dean shrugged. "And secondly, did you just use the word 'jest'?"

Sam snickered, just to spite the evil waitress.

Melanie's eyes shone brighter, until they had almost an otherworldy glow to them, and her nostrils flared with anger as she spoke. "You two brothers meddle a little too much, and you now know secrets about my family that nobody else knows. I would very much like to kill you right now, right here on the spot." She spoke the words with such furious conviction, that even Dean was a little bit frightened. He didn't show it though, of course. "I won't though." The woman continued, tossing her hair back in a way similar to an agitated horse. "I'll let my long dead ancestor deal with you. It will be much more painful that way."

"Come on, and miss out on all the fun?" Dean asked, and Sam looked at his brother as though he was losing it as well. The truth was, that if it was Melanie, a human being who was at least five inches shorter than Dean trying to kill them, he and Sam could probably take her. Spirits were much more difficult to defeat than people.

"Oh don't worry yourself Dean. I'll have my fun. I'm a girl who likes to have fun." Melanie wetted her lips and moved over to Dean, making sure to keep the points of the pitchfork firmly planted on the younger Winchester's abdomen. She let her free hand glide down Dean's chest, and she moved her body right up against his. "I know for a fact that you like to have fun as well." She whispered flirtily into his ear. "It's quite a pity that you and your brother are so meddlesome. I could have had quite a blast with both of you. Yes, quite a shame that you are both so handsome as well..."

Sam noticed that Dean's eyes were starting to get the glazed over look that they usually got when he was being complimented by a hot girl. And he couldn't believe it.

"Dean!" He hissed, giving his brother a look.

The look that Dean shot back told Sam all he needed to know. Dean had a plan.

"Well, Melanie." Dean replied, just as seductively. "There's still time left. Why don't we have our fun now?" Melanie moved a step closer to him and Dean gave Sam a quick nod.

"I knew you wanted me." Melanie licked her ruby lips again.

Dean gave the waitress his most charming grin, (think the kind that as soon as you see it, you fall instantly in love with that person), but he was almost gagging trying to hide his repulsion. This blonde who had knocked him out, threatened to kill him, and had a sharpened pitchfork pressed into his baby brother's chest actually thought that he wanted her? She may had been a gorgeous, once in a lifetime beauty, but Dean was not totally superficial. He had never wanted anyone less.

He nodded at Sam again, and in a stunningly fast move, Sam spun out of the way of the pitchfork, grabbed it, and used it to corner Melanie against the wall.

Melanie screamed off a string of cuss words in utter outrage. Dean took advantage of Melanie's current weakness and searched her down. He got two guns from her waistband and was just moving up so search her pockets, when all of a sudden, she whipped out a hunting knife as quick as lightning, and plunged the dagger into Sam's arm. She pushed the blade in all the way up to it's hilt, and Sam cried put in agony. It took Dean a second to recover from the surprise of this attack, but when he did, he sure did recover.

In a set of moves that rivaled those of Superman or Batman, and swung out his arm and knocked Melanie down. He grabbed the pitchfork and hit her over the head with it's metal prongs, knocking her out. He then kicked her just to make sure. He would usually never hurt a girl, but when someone hurt his Sammy, then things got ugly.

"Sam!" Dean swiveled around to the spot where his little brother had slumped against the wall. The hilt of the knife was still visible in his arm, and the sleeve of Sam's shirt was stained crimson with more blood blossoming like roses from the bicep. "Shit Sammy..." With a tremendous tug, Dean yanked the knife from his brother's arm. Sam whimpered. Usually, Dean would have told him to suck it up and stop acting like a baby, but since his little brother had a concussion and had just been stabbed, he figured he could let that one go. Dean ripped off one of his shirt sleeves and wrapped it tightly around Sam's wound, using it as a makeshift bandage. Sam's blood immediatly dyed the sleeve red. Dean was terrified. Usually he could handle large amounts of blood, but when they were coming from his little brother? Lets just say thathe was ready to puke.

"Dean..." Sam pointed upwards, his words slurring and his vision dizzy from the pain.

"Not now, Sam. I'm going to get you to a hospital." Dean stood up from his crouched postion and moved to pick up his brother off the ground.

"No time. Look." Sam pointed up again, and Dean saw that it was dangerously close to sunrise.

"I don't care, Sam. I'm getting you to a hospital!"

"I care." Sam wheezed. "Dig. Burn and salt the bones, or I will." The younger struggled to stand and gripped the pickaxe as though he was going to dig for the bones.

"Oh no you don't." Dean eased him back down. "I'll find the bones, Sammy."

"It's Sam. Not Sammy"

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Another happy chapter! I just love my endings. Please R&R, I like any type of review. Flames, praise, you name it, I eat it with whipped cream on top. I'm kidding. That statement made no sense to me either.

Sayonara! (That does mean goodbye, right?)


	10. A Grand Finale

I'm so sorry that it has been forever and a day since I updated, but you can blame my teachers, not me. An hour and a half of math a night topped off with science, history, english, french, and volleyball practices. Blech. I'm not asking for pity since I'm sure that there are hundreds of other people with it worse than me homework wise, but I am asking for forgiveness. Remember to review. - Heather XOXO

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. I do live kinda close to where the film it though. I live maybe an hour away from Burnaby and an hour and a half away from Vancouver, and according to a very reliable website, that it where they film it. So yeah. Pretty rad. :)

Chapter Ten: (The big 1-0!) A Grand Finale

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Dean wiped a bead of sweat off of his forehead with a dirty sleeve, and leaned on the handle of his shovel for a minute. His fingers were slippery from sweat, and he was afraid that with one violent thrust of the shovel, it would fly out of his hands and hit his little brother on the head.

Sam was lying against the barn wall, his face turning a deathly shade of motel room gray. Although he was holding a torn piece of fabric from one of Dean's shirts against his arm wound, blood was still oozing out of it faster than he could mop it up. As Sam lay there, his face became paler and paler until Dean glanced over and noticed the extreme change in Sam's skin tone. Dean's face automatically took on a look of brotherly concern when he saw the expression of pain on his baby brothers face.

"Thats it." He said with conviction as he moved over to Sam again, dropping the shovel. "I'm taking you to a hospital."

"The hell you are!" Sam cried indignantly, ignoring the strain that talking put on his sternum. "Keep digging. You have to."

"What I have to do is get your arm stitched up, or get you some medical attention. I'm willing to bet my car on the fact that that knife was rusty or something. Your wound is probably infecting as we sit here talking." Dean told him.

"Yeah, and you know what else is happening as we sit here talking? Day. The sun isn't gonna wait for us, Dean." Sam gritted his teeth against the jarring pain that speaking sent through his whole body. Crimson blood continued to drip from his arm like it was some sort of fountain.

Dean hated to admit it, but his brother was right. The sun waited for no one. Not even the almighty Dean Winchester. "Fine, I'll dig. You've gotta hold that bandage tighter though, or you're gonna loose all your blood. I'd hate for that to happen."

Sam put his hand over his heart in mock surprise. "I didn't think you cared so much Dean."

"About you? Hell no. I'm just thinking about what a terrible mess your dead carcass is gonna leave behind." Dean grinned and grabbed up the pickaxe in his left hand. Man was it a good thing that he was quite ambidextrous, cause as much as he hated to admit it, daylight was fast approaching and he needed both hands and both weapons to dig up the floor. Dean sneaked another glance at Sam while his little brother wasn't looking. Sam was shaking and pale, and the elder Winchester was as frightened as hell. Were arm wounds supposed to bleed as much as Sam's was? For gods sake, he looked on the verge of passing out from blood loss, and it was only a wound on his arm. Dean cursed himself for not remembering more about anatomy, and whether there were any major veins or arteries in the bicep region.

"So, Sammy..." Dean began. He trailed off though, not knowing what to say. All he knew was that he needed to keep Sam awake and talking. Keep it so that the blood was pumping through him. His brother didn't answer right away, so Dean tore up another chunk of the cement flooring. "Hey, I think I've got something here." Still no reply. "Sammy?" Dean finally looked over at his brother. Sam was still in the same position as he had been in before, but his head was leaning back on the wall and his eyes were closed. The slow rise and fall of Sam's chest assured Dean that he was still breathing, but he must have passed out from the pain or from the massive blood loss. "Damn arm wounds..." Dean muttered to himself as he hopped over the hole he had made in the floor and knelt down beside his brother.

Sam was trembling, and his skin was flushed under Dean's cool hands. "Shit, Sam!" Dean cried out as he tried to revive his brother. Sam gave a quiet moan, but his eyes refused to open. "She must have dipped the knife in something." Dean said to himself. He slapped Sam hard on the face, and it seemed to do the trick.

"What... What the hell was that for?" Sam's voice was tiny and far away, as though he had just woken up from a deep deep sleep.

"Stay awake." Dean commanded.

"... I... I don't think I can. Don't feel so good..."

"I don't care. Melanie infected the knife with something I think. Lets get you up. You are going to a hospital and thats final." Dean went to pick Sam up.

"Don't you dare." Sam stopped him by hitting his hand away weakly. "You... You are gonna find those god forsaken bones... If it takes you forever and a day. Dig!"

Dean almost smiled at his little brother's determination. The almost smile turned into a definite frown though, when Sam's head tilted back again, and he was unconscious. Dean was at a crossroads. He could either stop the digging and take his brother to a hospital right away, or he could keep on digging and put Sam's life in danger. Not that their lives weren't already in danger, but still... What would Sam do? Dean spared his brother a concerned glance. Sam would dig. Yeah, he would definetly dig.

Dean's arms swung up and down as he attacked the floor with new determination. Adrenaline pumped through him and propelled his arms up and down like miniature windmills. A dull metallic clunk rang out in the barn as Dean felt the pickaxe hit something hard.

Breathing heavily, Dean bent down to inspect the object that he had struck. It was some kind of chest, made of cherry wood and bound with thin strips of matte brass. "Jackpot." He murmured, using all of his might to pull up the chest.

Dean swiveled his head around when he heard a noise that sounded like someone knocking over a metal garbage can. Or _something_ knocking over a metal garbage can. He jumped up and brought the axe so that it was in front of him, offering very minimal protection.

The barn door swung open with a terrible **clunk. **A cold gust of wind blew in from outside, ruffling Dean's short hair. Hair that was in dire need of a good shampoo, Dean noted as he raised a hand and felt the dirty blonde locks that were covered him cobwebs.

A shadow grew on the opposite wall, until it was huge, seemingly larger than life. The silhouette was ominous, very tall and black as night, and Dean could make out the shape of some kind of scythe in it's hands.

Dean frantically attempted to open the chest, but years of disuse had made it stiff and rusty, and no matter how hard Dean tried it would not open. Dean's fingers, shaking and crackling with Sam's dried blood struggled in a frenzied manner with the old latch. "Why today?" Dean asked the sky. The sky, of course, had no answer for him.

The dark shadow drew closer, and Dean found it strange that he could not see an actual person yet, dead or undead. A low rumbling growl filled the chilly air, and Dean heard the pathetic lowing of a cow until it went silent.

The Heart Snatcher was here.

Dean had almost no time to salt and burn the bones of William Friedmont, and he couldn't open the chest. Un-fucking-believable.

He felt in his back pocket for the small plastic lighter that he saved specially for these occasions. Too bad it wouldn't do much good here unless... Unless Dean salted and burned the whole chest. That would probably work right?

Dean snapped open the lighter but stopped short when he realized one very small but important detail. He had no salt.

"You've got to be kidding me!" He screamed, regardless of the fact that there was a crazed cannibal spirit munching on a cow heart two box stalls over. Dean had to find a way out. He had to find a way to get the salt and get back. He looked around the barn and spotted an open window that he could probably squeeze through. But what about Sammy? Dean couldn't just leave him there, he was injured and unconscious. Dean was a fast runner though. He knew where the car was and he knew how to get there. He could probably have the salt in two minutes, tops. He had never taken the time to cut out a cow's heart and eat it so he didn't know how much time he had, but he did know that he had to risk it.

With a flying leap, he grabbed onto the high windowsill and crawled through the tight squeeze that was the window itself. Once outside, he ignored the prickling pain that the cold sent up his bare arms and sprinted straight for the car. He pulled out an economy bag of salt and was back in the barn in a minute. One minute to late though.

The spirit of William Friedmont had obviously grown tired of his cow carcass and decided to go for a human victim. The horrible black cloaked figure was hunched over Sam, almost cradling the younger Winchester in his arms as he sucked the red blood off of Sam's arm.

"Hey!" Dean cried out indignantly as he hopped down from the windowsill. "Get away from him!"

The spirit made a hissing sound and turned around. Dean gulped. So he hadn't though his plan out all the way, so what? All he new was that he had to get that thing off of his brother.

The spirit dropped Sam like a sack of potatoes and lurched over to Dean. Dean jumped out of the way and the spirit came at him again, this time brandishing the razor sharp scythe.

Dean found himself pinned down, and he kept his knees up at his his chest to stop the spirit from completely blocking off his circulation. Damn that spirit was heavy! He could see its face under the dark hood; it had beetle black eyes and skin as sallow as candle wax. It's bloody lips were stretched into a menacing snarl, and it had a large gaping hole in its drawn cheek.

The scythe was swung, and it skimmed Dean's cheek, drawing a minimal amount of blood. "Oh HELL no! That is gonna scar my face! You are so gonna pay!" Dean kicked up and the spirit went flying off him. With another lunge the Heart Snatcher came flying at him. With a clink, Dean threw the lighter and the bag of salt on the chest, and the whole thing went up in flames. The only problem was that the fire and salt had to burn through a couple layers of wood before it got to the actual bones. That gave Dean another minute or two with the crazed cannibal Heart Snatcher. Yippee.

"Dean..." He heard a feeble voice behind him. Dean looked back and saw Sam holding out the pickaxe with trembling hands. "Hold him off..." Was all he said before he slipped back into unconsciousness.

When William decided to come at Dean, again, Dean was ready. He swung the pickaxe into the beast's chest, and although he knew that it wouldn't kill him, it did hold him off until the bones in the chest went up in flames along with the spirit.

Dean watched with no remorse as the horrible monster's face disfigured and it collapsed into a pile of bones on the ground. Sitting on top of the pile of bones was a small heart, made of black velvet.

"Sammy? Sammy, you okay?" Dean rushed over to his little brother and hoisted him up.

Sam rolled his head around and groaned. His eyes stayed shut, and Dean carried him to the impala and laid him down length ways in the back seat.

"Stay with me Sammy!" Dean commanded as he pulled out of the Hannigan's driveway and onto the street. Sam's only reply was a moan, and that was all until the brothers made it back to the motel. Dean picked up Sam again and carried him in.

There was a different woman working the front desk, and this one stared scrutinizingly at Sam and Dean until Dean said:

"We were out at a party. Pretty wild one. This guy can not hold his liquor, let me tell you." It was a dumb explanation and Dean knew it, but, at the risk of sounding rude, he didn't really think that this chick at the desk of the motel deserved a rational answer.

Once in the room, Dean laid Sam down on the bed and opened up the medical kit. Grabbing out antiseptic and a needle and thread, he cleaned out Sam's wound and stitched it up.

Sam was jolted awake by the jarring pain of the sizzling cleanser against his gash, his dark eyes flew open and he was panting.

"Good to see you're awake, buddy." Dean clapped him on the shoulder.

"Did you... Did you get him?" He managed to squeak out.

"Yep. And now you have to rest. I'm taking you to a hospital tomorrow."

"No hospital."

"Yes hospital." Dean said. "You're going whether you want to or not. Now sleep, cause I'm going to and I don't want to have to listen to you whined all night. I had a rough day."

Sam smiled weakly. Dean was still Dean. He closed his eyes and drifted off into a Tylenol induced slumber.

Dean lay down on the bed next to him, but did not fall asleep right away. He stay awake for about an hour thinking about how close he came to losing his little brother today, how close he came to losing himself. Still though, he loved it. He wouldn't give up hunting for anything.

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Epilogue coming soon, I pinky promise. Just hold tight! Remember to review. 


	11. Epilogue

This is it, folks! The very last chapter of my Supernatural story. I hope that you all enjoyed it, and I think that I will probably write a few more, if I get the inspiration. Thank you for all of your more than kind reviews, please keep them coming for this chapter. Much love. – Heather XOXO

Disclaimer: I, quite unfortunately, do not own Supernatural. Be pretty cool if I did though, eh?

Epilogue:

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Dean kept a firm hand on his brother's shoulder as he lead Sam out of the front doors of the Roseau County Hospital and to the impala. Dean's grip was tight, and Sam's shoulder was frail even through his t-shirt and jacket.

"Jesus Sam, we need to fatten you up a little, don't we?" Dean grinned his trademark grin and ruffled Sam's shaggy brown hair, hair that had seemed to have grown an inch since Dean had seen it last.

Sam shook his head and raised his hand to feel the bandage on his other arm. "I just need a good meal. I was stuck in a hospital for four days forced to eat prepackaged freeze-dried artificial roast beef and forced to drink hospital tap water. So don't you blame me for being skinny just because I didn't feel like subjecting my digestive system to that crap." Sam's arm was throbbing and he was really in need of some variation of pain killer. Both of those factors were contributing to his pained snarky remarks.

Dean knew better than to be offended by his little brother's sudden jerkiness. Sam had a tendency to bitch like nobody's business when he didn't have his daily fill of plain black coffee.

"So are we gonna leave now?" Sam asked, still rubbing the sore spot on his arm.

"Yeah. Stop touching your arm." Dean swatted Sam's hand away. "You're going to irritate it." He reached the impala before Sam and opened the door for his brother.

Sam looked at his brother through his hair and smiled as much of a smile as he could manage. " Thank you nurse Dean."

"Yeah well. I just feel kinda bad." Dean crawled into the drivers seat and gunned the engine.

Sam had an expression on his face remniscent of a confused puppy. "What? What do you have to feel bad about?"

"Its complicated Sammy."

"Its **Sam! **Try me." Sam looked intently at his older brother.

Dean absently tapped the steering wheel to a nonexistent beat. "Its just… You got stabbed, Sammy."

Sam nodded, he seemed to have given up on pounding his preferred name into Dean's head for now. "Yeah, believe me, I am very well aware that I got stabbed." He rubbed his aching shoulder andchucked nervously, unsure of how to act when Dean was the one instigating the chick flick moment.

"It should have been me." Dean's voice was laced with regret.

"Dean, if we started to play the 'it should've been me' game for everything, we could be here all night." Sam told him.

"Seriously though." Dean continued. "I should have protected you."

"You did the best you could! Don't beat yourself up about it. Melanie was quick. You couldn't have stopped her any better than I could've."

"But I still should have." Dean looked down, almost as though he was ashamed. "I remember when you were born, and Mom…" Dean faltered momentarily, his eyes shining with emotion. "Mom told me to make sure that I always always protected you, no matter what. And I… I failed."

Sam was at a loss for words. He had never ever seen Dean like this, all emotional and, dare he say it, chick- flicky. "You didn't fail, Dean. Why would you even think that? You have protected me ever since… Ever since forever! Without you I would have died before I reached age ten! I would've died when we were up against Melanie and the Heart Snatcher if it wasn't for you!"

Dean smiled. "Yeah, I did save your pathetic ass again, didn't I?"

"Yeah. You did Dean."

Dean ducked his head quickly, but not before Sam saw the hint of crimson blush that was creeping across his cheeks. Dean quickly regained himself and focused on the road again. "Don't be expecting anymore chick flick moments though. That was a one time thing."

Sam smirked. Save for a momentary lapse of girlyness, Dean was still himself. More than that, Dean was his protector, his saviour,and he always would be.

Dean put a Def Leppard cassette into the tape player and blasted the stereo up full blast, drowning out anything exept for the ringing guitar solos and haunting riffs of the mullet rockmusic. The two brothers rolled past the sign that read, "Welcome to Roseau" and kept going, leaving all bad memories in the dust and bringing all of the good memories on the open road with them.

Fin.

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Well, I really took my sweet time finishing this story didn't I? No, I'm just kidding. I decided to write out all of my review shout outs in honor of this being the last chapter, so here goes:

Windyfontaine: I did have a great day, thank you very much! Glad you enjoyed it.

Phoebe: I love your name! Is it your birth name or a screen name? Either way, it is pretty rad.

M.Kena: I'm so happy that you loved it. I really liked your review, and I tried to send it to you, although I'm not positive if it worked.

Ghostwriter: Yeah, last chapter. I'm sorry. Catch you on the flip side as well.

Mystery: Glad to know you're looking forward to my epilogue.

supercellchaser: I'm actually thinking about a sequel, but I'm not totally sure yet. Maybe if some more people wanted me to do one...

Nimue 26: REJOICE! I'm glad that someone can feel my homework pain.

ChaiGrl: You think that my writing is fantasic? Wow. Blushes furiously

ws: I appreciate your comment. It was something that I guess I didn't realize I was doing, and I tried to not do it. So thanks.

Anyone I forgot: I apologize profusely. You can write me another review if I forgot you and cyber yell at me.

So, I am thinking about a sequel, so if anyone else wants me to do one, review me with your opinion. Thanks, luv ya'll.


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